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BERODE

THE TOURNAMENT

The castle stood solitary, enveloped by the deep forest, protected by the steep cliffs

on which it was built, by a strong wall, and by a stream that ran its course past it. And

until recently a thick mass of trees, one next to the other.

But, as cut off from the outside world as they seemed to be, the inhabitants of the

castle nevertheless heard its clamorous voice, for beggars came, and mendicant friars,

and wandering minstrels. In the quiet of the evening, under the flickery light of torches

and to the muted strains of a lute, the people of the castle would listen to songs that

told of great battles and heroic deeds, of the struggle waged by Christian knights in a

far-off heathen land, of sufferings honourably borne and feats of courage successfully

accomplished.

Everyone listened eagerly. None more so than the young son of the lord of the

castle, George. He was spellbound. His time was approaching, he felt. The time when he

would set forth from this forsaken castle in order to join the Crusaders fighting to wrest

Christ's grave from the hands of the Mohammedans. His blood pulsed wildly in his veins,

ambition filled his breast. He felt strong, incredibly strong, knowing that far and wide

there was no youth who excelled him at the lists, where he had thrice in succession

received the victor's laurels from the hands of the most beautiful lady present at the tour-

nament.

Strong as he felt, young George could not rid himself of a feeling of anxiety that

damped his ardour whenever he thought of his father. Would he give his consent to his

leaving home on such an expedition?

At last he plucked up his courage and came before his father, Nicholas of Tarne, with

his request.

"Father, I too am a Christian. My arm is strong and my heart is brave. I cannot stay

at home while others fight. I must to the Holy Land!"

Sir Nicholas looked attentively at his son and was silent for a few moments. Then he

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George of Tarne was the hero of the day. No other challenger came forward, and he

received the laurel wreath and the other prizes reserved for the victor, as well as the cov

eted royal invitation.

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identity. For the man who stood before him as his vassal was none other than the sworn

But his finest reward came when the Black Knight had to lift his visor and reveal his

enemy of his family, the bandit leader Benedict of Graball. Wrath and shame combined

to kindle an angry flame in his dark eyes. But he had no choice

which he had had publicly proclaimed in front of the very King. Thus it came about that

he had to keep that

the cruel and predatory Benedict of Graball solemnly undertook to bury his old enmity

towards the Tarnes and to leave George's birthplace henceforward in peace.

With this glorious episode began George of Tarne's journey to the Holy Land.

STER

WESTMIN

BOOKS

BANCROFT & CO. (PUBLISHERS) LTD. WESTMINSTER LONDON S. W. 1.

1961 by ARTIA Prague

312 2

Printed in Czechoslovakia